


Ouch!

by Tiofrean



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Teacher!Rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 23:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15497607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: When Rick gets back home limping, Daryl has to think up a way to help him... What's better for healing than kisses and some careful attention?





	Ouch!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on true happenings. There was one teacher with something unidentified hurting low in the back. Unfortunately, said teacher didn't have a Daryl to take care of it... 
> 
> MermaidSheenaz kept an eye on it, and since she didn't smack me over the head with a broom, I guess it's okay to be posted ;) 
> 
> Have some sexy fluff, people! <3

Daryl knew something was wrong as soon as the front door to their house opened and Rick stepped inside. Instead of the usual strutting, half-tired and half-angry thudding of the cowboy boots he insisted on wearing, there was just an uneven gait, pause-step-pause-step-pause…  
“Rick?” Daryl called, turning around from the task at hand and making a beeline to the corridor. Their leaking sink could wait a bit.

“Honey, I’m home!” Rick chuckled mirthlessly and regarded Daryl with a pained expression, taking a step closer. Daryl almost ran to him when Rick stumbled, one hand shooting to the side to catch his fall against the corridor wall.   
“The fuck happened?” Daryl demanded, hands traveling to Rick’s sides as soon as he found himself in Rick’s personal space.   
“I don’t know.” He laughed bitterly and shook his head, hissing through his teeth when he tried to straighten up. Daryl tsked at him and pulled him gently further into the house, steering them both to the living room. Once there, Daryl took Rick’s bag and helped him to slide out of his jacket.

“Sit down,” he prompted, nodding at the couch, but Rick shook his head.   
_“Can’t.”_ He mumbled, and Daryl’s eyes widened.   
“Alright, what the fuck happened?”

Daryl would have started panicking sometime now, had it not been for the lack of any evidence of a fight. Rick was a teacher, a _police academy_ teacher. Had been for three years. A damn fine sheriff’s deputy before that, until a bullet to his chest had ended his career. Daryl knew Rick could handle himself in a fight. Rick could handle most shit life threw at him… except for leaking piping and most technological gimmicks. That’s why he had Daryl. They had met because of Rick’s leaking shower, Daryl’s fine mechanic skills had been put to good use, and soon after they had bonded over a few beers in Rick’s brand new, post-divorce flat. Daryl could still remember the grimace on Rick’s face when he had spilled all his miserable secrets to Daryl.

The wince Rick had right now was very similar.

“It’s probably nothing,” Rick murmured, eyeing the couch as if it could jump up and bite him on the ass. Daryl scowled at him.   
“Spill.”   
“I bent down to get a pen one of the kids dropped.” _Of course he did._ Daryl almost huffed with annoyance. Those pricks didn’t deserve half of Rick’s kindness. They all did everything they could to make every single teacher in the academy miserable. And Rick still did his best to fight their fuckery with his kindness. “...couldn’t straighten up. Must have pulled something.” Rick’s eyes were still glued to the couch, and Daryl made sure that Rick was holding himself up, before he stepped away. He looked around, spotting the cushions they had pushed off the couch a few evenings before and went to retrieve them, placing them on one end, propped against the arm rest.

“Lie down, yeah?” He prompted and watched as Rick nodded and, gritting his teeth, lowered himself down gingerly, turning on his side and looking up at Daryl. His moves were stiff and his muscles tense, and Daryl’s eyes automatically went to Rick’s hip. “I’ll be fine,” Rick tried to assure, but Daryl wasn’t buying that.   
“Right. Where?” He asked and Rick sighed, twisting carefully and reaching with his hand to press it to the small of his back, just above the waistband of his jeans. It was too far to the left to be a case of a slipped disc and too low to be a complication left by the gunshot. Daryl frowned.

He reached out with one hand and slipped it underneath Rick’s shirt, raking it up in the process, feeling around tentatively. Nothing seemed out of norm, there was no stiffness or swelling, and when he pressed carefully, there was no sign of pain.   
“Alright, wait ‘ere,” he gruffed and Rick rolled his eyes, as if he wanted to say ‘ _where am I supposed to go?’_ _._ Daryl went to the bathroom and retrieved an old tube of ointment they kept there. He had gotten it from their friend, Hershel, when he had slipped on ice last year and bruised half of his side. Daryl frowned at the expiration date, seeing it was almost two months past it. He shrugged, and went back to the living room - it would have to do. Besides, it wasn’t like there was some kind of an ultra-strong antibiotic inside, just herbs and natural extracts.

Rick was lying in much the same position, eyes closed and left leg stretched out on top of the right one. The rucked up shirt showed a sliver of Rick’s pale skin, the soft flesh of his abdomen almost glowing in the dull light inside the room. Daryl kneeled down next to the couch and ran gentle fingers over Rick’s skin. The teacher startled. He looked at Daryl with warm eyes, a small smile quirking up his lips.   
“Need to pull these down.” Daryl tugged at Rick’s jeans and Rick gave a small nod.   
“Just take them off,” he stated, hands going to his belt. He tried to twist around a bit to get a better angle, but that pulled at whatever muscle he had managed to fuck up, and froze with a small moan.   
“Easy,” Daryl gruffed, patting his hands away and undoing the belt himself. He opened the jeans and peeled them off slowly, mindful of the injury. He let the denim plop to the floor next to his feet and lowered the waistband of Rick’s boxers just a bit to make enough space to work his hands over the skin. On a whim, and because Rick was obviously hurting, Daryl leaned down and kissed his hip, flicking his tongue briefly over the flesh. The sharp gasp that followed his action made Daryl smirk.

“Found this.” He waved the tube at Rick, showing him the label, before he opened it and got some on his fingers. He let it warm a bit, before he started to methodically rub it over the sore spot. Daryl wasn’t sure it would do any good, not when he couldn’t really feel anything being wrong with the place earlier. But trying wouldn’t hurt, and even if it didn’t work, he could always score some points for distracting Rick.

It took almost five minutes for the skin to absorb the ointment. Five minutes filled with Daryl’s calloused hands gliding over Rick’s flesh, making it tingle more than the medicine ever could. Rick got lost in the slow drag of Daryl’s fingertips, in the warm sensation when he pressed his whole palms into Rick’s muscles, trying to relax them as much as he could. Rick closed his eyes, feeling any residual tension leave his body under Daryl’s attentive touch. He was boneless, drifting on a happy cloud and almost drifting off, when one of Daryl’s hands slid over his hip, around to his groin and _that_ brought Rick’s hazy brain back online. His eyes snapped open and he looked at Daryl, groaning at the devilish smirk he was wearing.   
“Yeah?” Daryl asked and Rick nodded, feeling himself getting hard just from that small brush. Daryl let his hand move more firmly over Rick’s groin, grabbing his length through the boxers and giving it a squeeze, and _yeah, definitely._

Daryl left one hand on Rick’s back, still rubbing the skin there softly, and let his other enjoy the feeling of Rick’s slowly filling cock. The cotton barrier was annoying, but Daryl kept it for now. Sometime during his careful massage, the ointment had made his palms numb and he really didn’t want to risk numbing _something else_ by accident. Rick had another idea, apparently, and he tried to shift and press into Daryl’s hand. It didn’t go well.

“Fuck!” Rick hissed, stopping when the movement pulled at his muscles and made something inside him jolt painfully. Daryl frowned, trying to calculate the best angle to put Rick in, before he grabbed one of the spare cushions and pushed it between the back of the couch and Rick’s ass. He adjusted the angle and gently rolled Rick so that the small of his back rested on the pillow, and Daryl had free access to all the important bits. He looked down, eyeing the boxers and the swollen length inside them, glancing briefly at Rick’s face to make sure he was still on board. Rick had his eyes closed and a blissed-out expression on his face, which clearly indicated that Daryl had done a good job with positioning him and putting less strain on this particular part of his body.

Satisfied with the result, Daryl looked back down, splaying his hands over Rick’s abdomen, slipping them under the shirt as far as he could and dragging them back down. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Rick’s boxers and pulled them down, only low enough to reveal Rick’s cock. It was more than half-hard already, lying heavy and plump in the cradle of Rick’s hips, and Daryl licked his lips at the sight. Mindful of his still half-numb palms, Daryl leaned in and licked a broad stripe up Rick’s length.

He was rewarded with a small, pleased moan and a beautiful arch of Rick’s back which ended as soon as it started, a pained hiss leaving Rick’s mouth on an exhale.   
“Don’t move,” Daryl rasped and pinned Rick down to the pillow, dragging his tongue from root to tip, lingering there for a moment. Rick's body strained against his hold, but he stayed in place and this time, the only sound that escaped him was that of pleasure. Daryl smiled and started to suck and lave at the length, shifting to the side when he could, nipping at the delicate skin where hip meets thigh. Rick’s hand traveled to Daryl’s hair and his fingers threaded through it gently, Rick’s voice flowing to his ears, sweet like molasses.   
“Daryl…”

Daryl looked up, seeing Rick staring at him with so much warmth in his eyes that Daryl felt a shiver running down his spine. He couldn’t really stop a small growl from escaping him, the sound transferring through the skin and stiffening Rick’s length even more. Eyes sparkling, Daryl dove in and closed his lips around the head, sucking lightly, slowly drawing more of Rick’s heated flesh inside his mouth. The scent was intoxicating, filling Daryl’s nose and still making him want more, and so, on the next move, Daryl slid his lips a bit lower, letting Rick go a bit deeper. The moan he was rewarded with was totally worth the brief moment of discomfort and fighting his gag reflex.

“Shit… Daryl,” Rick mumbled above him, fingers tightening in Daryl’s hair. His stomach clenched every time Daryl bobbed his head, sucking on the cock in his mouth. On a whim, Daryl hummed around the heated length, glancing at Rick, just to see him throw his head back against the armrest, lips forming a silent “o”. Daryl used the moment to pop off his length and duck lower, licking all over Rick’s balls, then taking one in and sucking gently. He would have used his hand to jerk Rick off, but his palm was still tingly from the ointment, and Daryl didn’t want to risk it. Pulling off, he got back to Rick’s dick, dedicating some time to kidding the head gently, wetly, before he stuck the very tip of his tongue into the little slit at the top.

Rick _whined,_ hips jumping up despite Daryl’s hold on them, and in the next second, he was grimacing at the pain in his lower back. Daryl tsked at him.   
“Told ya to stay down,” he gruffed out, but Rick was too far gone to pay him any attention.

He came as soon as Daryl drew him into his mouth again, giving a moan that thundered down Daryl’s own spine, trashing in Daryl’s hands. He groaned and grunted incoherently, shooting into Daryl’s mouth, panting out a litany of _Daryls_ and _fucks._ To hear him swear - the one person in Daryl’s life who didn’t do it on daily basis - started a wildfire in Daryl’s abdomen. Before he was even done licking Rick clean, he had one hand moving furiously inside his own sweats. He pulled off of Rick’s cock just to press his forehead to Rick’s thigh, humming ruggedly when he felt Rick’s fingers still tangled in his hair.

And then Rick scraped his nails over his scalp, breathed out a little, sweet “Daryl,” and he was done for. He spilled inside his sweatpants, gasping for air, Daryl tried not to think how he looked like a right teenager.

When dark spots stopped dancing in his vision, Daryl straightened up, then glanced at Rick. He was met with Rick’s cerulean eyes and a soft smile, and he fought the blush that threatened to spill all over his face. _Dixons didn’t fucking blush!_

...except for when Rick Grimes was looking at them with _that_ particular kind of expression.

Gruffing something about cleaning up and getting Rick food, Daryl stood up. He pulled Rick’s boxers up, then covered him with a blanket and marched out to the kitchen, but not before Rick stole a small, fiery kiss.

About half an hour later, Rick was already dozing off, when Daryl shook his shoulder.   
“Dinner’s ready,” he gruffed out, smirking when Rick blinked fuzzily at him.   
“What?”   
“Dinner. You. Sit up,” Daryl prompted, but Rick groaned painfully with his first move. Cursing quietly, Daryl put the plate he was holding on the table, then turned to his lover to help him.   
“Shit,” Rick muttered, clenching his teeth and trying to sit. Daryl just grabbed his arm and heaved him up, making sure Rick’s hips were at a good angle, before he let him settle down.   
“Easy… that okay?”   
“Mhm… What’s for dinner?” Rick frowned. He knew he had forgotten to do grocery shopping.

“Deer alright?” Daryl said, giving him a plate. He went back to the kitchen to get his own, then settled next to Rick.   
“Where the hell did you get a deer?” Rick asked, sounding mighty surprised.   
“From our freezer, genius,” Daryl huffed out, trying to stop the laughter that was ready to tear itself out of him.   
“We have a _deer_ in our _freezer.”_ Rick said, staring at him.   
“Mhm… went hunting last Friday,” Daryl mumbled, forking his own dinner down. “Come on, ‘s gonna get cold again,” he prompted, nodding at Rick’s plate.

The teacher just shrugged, then started to eat. It was good - spicy but not overwhelmingly so, the meet tender and delicate enough to make Rick close his eyes and moan after his second forkful.   
“Take it ya like it,” Daryl eyed him. Rick nodded, grinning.   
“Hell yeahs! You should make it more often.”   
“Don’t have time to hunt,” Daryl muttered, looking down at his plate.   
“Huh?” Rick grunted, staring at him. He chewed the next bite thoughtfully. “You get the weekends off, just like me… I _know_ because I live with you,” he teased, making Daryl groan.   
“Dork.”   
“I’m _your_ dork, though.”

Daryl chuckled at that, shuffling some more into his mouth. Rick went on.   
“Why don’t you go next Saturday or something?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. Daryl shook his head.   
“I’d rather spend the time with ya,” he murmured quietly, immediately forking down more of his dinner. Rick was silent for a moment.

“Daryl?”  
“Mhm?”   
“Put that plate down.”

Rick’s voice was so deep and growly, Daryl felt a shiver run down his spine. _No wonder all his students tried to get him riled up._ He put the plate on the table, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Rick had done the same. He was already opening his mouth to ask “why?” when Rick’s lips attacked his, tongue plunging in so deeply Daryl was a bit afraid of him stealing his fucking dinner.   
“Woah,” he gruffed out when they parted, eyeing Rick curiously.   
“We could go together… next time, we could go together.” Rick panted out, trying to lean back in, but Daryl stopped him with a frown.   
“Ya even know anythin’ ‘bouth huntin’?”   
“Nope.” Rick’s lips stretched in a smile that was positively devilish. “You could teach me, though… you know, about how to _trap_ something… or _spear_ it with your arrow… or - ”

“Okay!” Daryl interrupted him, hands shooting to Rick’s hair and gripping it tightly. “I’ll teach ya, alright,” he gruffed, then kissed him hungrily. Rick didn’t really have any objections to skipping dinner, it seemed, but their next round of fun was called off by his back, loudly protesting any shifting and rocking movements.

With quiet curses and heated eyes, they went back to eating the deer.

Later in the evening, when they were both lying in bed, Daryl made sure to kiss the problematic spot another dozen or more times - it was the best cure, after all. And if his lips slid a bit lower and more to the middle… well, it was only logical to kiss that spot, too. Better safe than sorry, right?


End file.
